
DOBELL COLLECTION 



REMORSE; 



AND 

•»:- ^ i 

OTHER POEMS. 






Remorse— she ne'er forsakes us — 
A blood-hound staunch — she tracks our rapid step 
Through the wild labyrinth of youthful frenzy, 
Unheard, perchance, until old age hath tamed us ; 
Then in our lair, when time hath chill'd our joints, 
And maim'd our hope of combat, or of flight, 
We hear her deep-mouth' d bay, announcing all 
Of wrath and woe and punishment that bides us. 



LONDON: 
1821. 






205449 
'13 






H. M'Milian, Printer, 
Bow-Street, Gorent-Gardcn. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Remorse, • ^ 

The Widow's Lament, 25 

The Queen of May, , 37 

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

Stanzas, 51 

Forget me not, ...*. 53 

Song, 54 

Christmas, 56 

On Mr. Crabbe's " Edward Shore," 58 

Written in an Album, 60 

A Name, • 61 

Written in a Book given me at four years old, 63 

A Farewell, 64 

Song, 66 

On the Gipsey's Prophecy in Guy Mannering, 68 

Stanzas, ,,,,, 70 

Stanzas, 71 

'Yo ********* ^^^ yo 

Written on a blank Leaf of Lalla Rookh, .,, 74 

To an Infant, „,„^ ,, „ 76 



w 



REMORSE. 



REMORSE. 



" One fatal remembrance— one sorrow that throws 
" Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes— 
" To which life nothing darker nor brighter can bring, 
" For which joy hath no balm— and affliction no sting.' 



IRISH MELODIES. 



I.- 

Yes ! I have well deserved the fate, 
The woe which you compassionate ; 
Guilt and remorse have wrought the pain 
Which rends my heart and sears my brain. 
Oh ! if our sufferings here may prove 
Atonement for our sins, above — 
If these avail, then even I 
May dare to look with hope on high. — 
If thou should' St ever feel the power 
Of Passion's wild and fearful hour, — 
If it should tempt thy sw3ps to stray 
Beyond the straight and even way, 

B 2 



10 REMORSE. 

And break thro' Virtue's sacred laws — 
Think on my story then, — and pause. 

2, 

I loved — adored: — 'twere hard to see 
Her whom I loved, nor love like me. 
Oh ! if there's one to whom was given 
A soul and form alike from heaven, — 
Whose ang-el features spoke within 
A spirit pure and free from sin, 
^Twas her I loved — 'twas her, whose air 
Revealed the soul resplendent there — 
Whose heavenly nature spoke her best — 
Whose touching be?iuty — loveliest! 

3. 

Yes, she was fair — but, oh ! much more 
The character her beauty wore : 
Her highly-gifted nature shone 
In every look, and word, and tone^ — 
In every feature was expressed 
Goodness of heart, which she possessed 



REMORSE. ir 

Beyond all measure :— in her face 
An eye the most unskilled could trace 
The brilliant talent — loftv mind — 
The strong sound sense we seldom find 
Even in man — while woman's soul 
Softened and feminized the whole. 

4. 

How happy might have been our fate^ 
Had we not met and loved too late ! 
Hallowed had been our guilty llame. 
Nor led to sorrow, sin and shame. 
But she was wedded to another — 
Another's wife — and more- — a mother- — 
Another's wife, if wife it is 
Whose hand, but not whose heart, is his. 
Compulsion made her hand his own- 
Compulsion gives the hand alone. £ 



5. 

How blessed her destiny had proved. 
If she had wedded one she loved— 



ri 



12 KKMORSfi. 

If fate had matched her with a mmd 
Of kindred mould — of equal kind : 
For ne'er was heart so formed to know 
Love's brig-hfest-^— warmest-^purest glow- 
Never was such a noble mind-^ 
A soul so pure— a heart so* kind ! 
Fve seen her softer feeling-s moved. 
When she has talked of those she loved — 
I've seen the bitter tear-drop shed 
For dear ones numbered with the dead — 
I've known her tenderly assuage 
The infant's ails— the cares of age — 
With soothing words, and pitying eye, 
Tend the sick bed of poverty— 
Anxiously watch the ebbing breath. 
And smooth the thorny bed of death 1 
In such a scene, at such an hour, 
'Tis we appreciate Beauty's power-^ 
^Tis then our hearts, our souls confess 
The full effect of loveliness ! 
Truly does woman then appear 
A spirit of a purer sphere— 



REMORSE. 13 

A ministering' ang-el given. 

To shew on earth the attributes of Heaven ! 

Beats there the dull cold heart which sees 

And feels no force iti deeds like these ? 

My breast, at least, does not enfold 

A heart that's cast in such a ntould. 

6. 

I loved — and w^as beloved — and then, 
The thoug-ht that I was loved again. 
Was joy to madness: and, although 
Pve wished, at times, it had not been so, 
I, even now, could not resign 
The feeling that she has been mine. 
No ! spite of all the guilt — the crime — 
The misery which since that time 
Has been my portion — yet, oh ! yet, 
1 cannot wish we had not met ! 

7. 

None ever loved like us : no th6ught, 
No feeling— no o^itii6li vs^i*6u«fht 



14 REMORSE. 

On one alone — our heart, our mind. 
Grew into one — our souls combined — 
We lived but as one being* : this. 
This was the season of our bliss ; 
For then we still had stayed within 
The verge which touched on damning sin. 
But Virtue's sacred bounds once past. 
Guilt, sin and shame prevail at last. 

8. 
One lovely eve we strolled tog-ether : 
^Twas at that time when summer weather 
Decks the broad sky, as evening- closes. 
With its own blushing- tint of roses : 
When the hour after sun-set — the heart's own 

hour — 
Is felt with e'en more than its wonted power. 
And the summer beams of the sun that is set 
With a lovelier beauty linger yet. 
And send their flushes melting-ly through 
The liquid veil of the falling dew. 
With light, brilliant but soft and soothing toOe 



REMORSE. 15 

All bosoms must have felt the power, 
The magic of this touching hour ; 
And, oh ! the charms of Nature move 
Doubly when viewed with those we love ! 

9. 

The trees' embowering branches made. 
As evening waned, a deeper shade ; 
And the soft sound of water near. 
Was sweetly soothing to the ear. 
And still we lingered, lingered on. 
Till evening's latest light was gone ; 
And an enthralling languor stole 
Softer and softer o'er the soul ; 
And every hour we lingered longer. 
Reason grew weak, and passion stronger, — 
Why should I dwell upon the time. 
The scene and season of our crime ? 
Enough that reason, virtue failed — 
That passion, sin and guilt prevailed ! 

10. 

Short are the joys which guilt bestows. 
Fleeting the pleasures passion knows — 



16 REMORSE. 

Ere we have time to clutch them fast, 

The illusion is ovef, the vision past. 

Like the brilliant sparks df liquid light 

Which gleam in the oceaii-wave by night^ — 

For one short moment's space they quiver. 

Vivid and bright — then sink for ever ! 

Yes ! soon our sinful pleasures were flown — 

My guilt discovered — her shame made known — 

Dishonour for ever obscured her fame ; 

The taunts of the scornful were cast on her name ; 

They forced her children and her to part — 

That, that was more heavy than all at her heart ; 

She was carried away to some unknown spot. 

Beyond my reach, and I saw her not. 



11. ♦ 

When met we next ? We met at last. 
When her hours were numbered, and flitted fast, 
When she drew with pain her shortening breath, 
And was lying reclined on the bed of death ; 
Her griefs Weie too great fot her fraihe to bear ; 
A broken heart had laid her thei*e. 



REMORSE. 17 

Oh ! the heart kills many and many a one. 
Whose wasting- disease is known to none ; 
Or whose death is laid to sdmt^ dutwatd ill. 
When the worm within was the cause to kill. 
The fire decays frorri the fading* eye. 
Or, more painful siill, shines glas^ily ; 
The blooming cheek grow^ pal^ £ts 6lay, 
And the fair form shrinks and withers away ; 
The flesh grows more white, and the veins niore 

blue. 
And the mien more sad, but more lovely too. 
'Tis no physical ailing which causes these, 
'Tis the wound of the heart, the souFs disease: 
The mediciner's skill has no power ib save 
The sick of this sickness-^their cure is the gtkve ! 

12. 

The damps of death were on her brow. 
Her once bright cheek was pallid now ; 
Her full blue eye was fixed and glazed ; 
She knew not them on whom it gazed : 
But at the moment when it fell 
On him she loved so long, so well, 



18 REMORSK. 

E'en at that hour, its failing- sight 
Regained awhile its wonted light ; 
Though Death now almost froze it dim. 
Still, still it beamed with love on him ! 
'' We meet/' she said, '' before I die, 
'' And now, at last, meet guiltlessly ; 
'' I now, without a sin, may own 
'' The love Pvc felt for you alone. 
'' If e'er the heart of woman knew 
** Affection fervent, tender, true, 
'' 'Twas that I felt— I feel for you ! 
'* And though from you alone arose 
" My guilt, and all its train of woes, 
*^ Yet may that God I soon shall see 
'' Forgive me, as 1 pardon thee ! 
^' Oh ! it almost annuls the power 
*' Of terror in this awful hour, 
'' To know that, as I sink to rest, 
'' I shall be pillowed on thy breast ; 
That, as my eyes are closed in night. 
They bend on thee their sinking sight ; 
'^ That, ere my lips grow stiff in death, 
'' They bless thee with their latest breath !" 



<< 



(( 



REMORSE. 19 

She paused, and prayed to the Most Hig*h 
With deep and fervent piety. 
And bade me join ; but, oh ! my mind 
Was not like hers, composed, resigned. 
I could not pray: to see her die, 
Stag'gered and stunned each faculty ; 
My heart seemed stiffened into stone — 
I knew and saw but her alone; 
I only felt that Death would sever. 
In one short hour, our hearts for ever ! 

la 

Within my circling arms she lay. 

As life slow-lingering- ebbed away ; 

And with one deep short sigh, at last. 

Convulsed and quick, her spirit passed ! 

To me her latest look was given ; 

Her dying words were, '^ Bless him. Heaven !'' 

But, oh ! I heard them not ; my head 

Swam with the shock — my reason lied : 

And all is blank — for years my brain 

Knew not the light of sense again. 



i 



20 REMORSE. 

But one Xhmg 1 shall ne'er forget — 

I felt it then — I feel it yet-r- 

It was the sound thp hard e^irth gave. 

Thrown on the coffin in her grave ! 

Mad as I was, I understood 

That sound full well — it froze niy blood : 

And, oh ! for many, many a year. 

That sound was ever in my ear. 

14. 

The years which then succeeded, seem 

An endless agonizing dream : 

Some vague ideas I have of pain. 

Like coals of fire upon my brain ; 

For in that space I never wept-r- 

I scarce took rest— for if I slept, 

Visions of wild and fearful pain 

Made it a bliss to wake again. 

I thought I still could hear her bless me. 

Could feel her failing arms caress me ; 

I still imagined that i heard 

Her last deep sigh; her parting word, 



Pf • 



REMORSE. 21 



And saw the cold grave yawn, and sever 
Her body from my sight for ever ! 



15. 



Long every means were tried in vain. 
To woo my reason home again ; 
For, ah ! what human art can find 
A balm to heal a wounded mind ? 
At length they brought me to the scene 
In which our guilty joys had been — 
At the same soothing hour of even, 
Beneath the same enchanting Heaven : 
The sinking light, the stream's soft sound. 
The touching calm which reigned around ; 
All, all which struck th^ ear, the ey^, 
The hour's, the spot's identity, 
'Wakened the sense of what had passed, 
When I had seen that loved place last : 
Tlie reason which so long had slept. 
Dawned into life oncp more— I wept ! 



22 REMORSE. 

My mind returned — my soul ag-ain 
Was 'wakened to the sense of pain ; 
Again it felt the full, full force 
Of sorrow, anguish, guilt, remorse : 
Yes ! it did feel — still, still it feels 
That one deep pang which nothing heals ; 
That one corroding thought, which drains 
My very life-blood from my veins ; 
The bitter, bitter, ceaseless thought 
Of all my sinful passion wrought ; 
Of her I loved, who loved me — her 
To whom I proved a murderer ! 

17. 

Time has passed on ; but what I feel. 

Even time itself can never heal. 

Time dries the tear, and hushes the groan 

Which spring from grief, when His grief alone ; 

But when the heart with remorse is riven 

For wrong to man, and offence to Heaven, 



REMORSE. 

The canker which preys on the inmost fold 
Of the victim breast, never quits its hold : 
The shaft is stricken, the barb is stuck fast, 
And it rankles w^ithin, till it kills at last. 

18. 

Oh ! it is not in passion's power 

To g-ive one truly happy hour ; 

A while, a little while, we seem 

To taste of Rapture's short, short dream ; 

But scarce sufficient does it last, 

To shew 'tis real, ere 'tis past ; 

And then, alas ! we 'wake again 

To certain grief, to lasting pain. 

'Twas thus with me — the joy I knew 

Was desperate — but was transient too : 

My grief, my pain, are with me still ; 

They pass not, and they never will. 



23 



THE WIDOW'S LAMENT. 



•dulces reminiscitur Aigos ," 

VIRGIL. 



02 



THE WIDOW'S LAMENT. 



" Almurah, resolving to enclose a large tract of ground for hunting and 
** sporting, commanded the inhabitants of fourteen hundred vil- 
" luges to be expelled from the limits of his intended enclosure." 

TALES OF THE GENII. 



1. 

The latest sunbeams linger yet 

Upon the distant minaret— 

The clouds which skirt the western heaven 

Glow with the golden tints of even. 

Ne'er can the northern soul conceive 
The touching charm of tropic eve, — 
When the fierce sun, which through the day 
Curses our clime, has passed away, 
And as he seeks his fiery bed. 
Dyes the whole sky with burning red ! — 
When from the sea the breeze sweeps by, 
As sweet as beauty's earliest sigh, 



28 THE widow's lament. 

And wafts the coolness which the wave 

Of the unbounded ocean gave ; 

And drooping plant and vsrithering flower 

Expand to meet the evening* hour. 

And the sweet season spreads around 

If s gifts of scent, and sight, and sound, 

Which to each living thing dispense 

^^ • 

Their all-reviving influence. 

2. 

At this fair hour, a sorrowing band 

Began their weary way — (1) 
Driven from out their native land. 

The world before them lay : 
In the wide waste they went to roam — 
The spoiler had destroyed their home : 
It was the Sultan's will to make 

A mighty hunting forest there ; 
To raise the thicket and the brake 

For the fowl's nest — the wild beast's lair. 
The despot issued his command — 
Destruction swept throughout the land — 



THE widow's lament. 29 

An hundred hamlets were laid waste ; 

The abodes of thousands were displaced : — 

All, all were turned into the wild. 

Woman and infant — ag-ed man and child ; 

All sent forth in the waste to roam,— 

Torn from their country — driven from their home ! 

3. 

The troop of mourners slowly wound 

Over the well known hills which bound 

Their own horizon : each one cast 

A fond look backward as he past ; 

Each lingered as he crossed the steep. 

And the women would pause on the top and weep ! 

And even the men, as they strove to cheer 

Their wives and children, felt the tear 

From the tightened throat and breast arise. 

Till, repressed in vain, it gushed from their eyes. 

For it softened their soul, and made their heart 

melt. 
To leave the spot where they ever had dwelt ; 
A spot fair in truth — and such ever will. 
To those who love them, seem fairer still. 



30 THE widow's lament. 

4. 

Last of the stragg-ling group, there went 

An aged woman — she was bent 

As much with sorrow as with years ; 

Her failing eyes filled fast with tears, 

As she looked on the smiling scene which lay 

Beneath her, beaming in the sun's last ray. 

She stopped and gazed : the very breeze. 

Which whistled through the well-known trees, 

Was as the voice of an old friend — all, all 

She looked on could not but recall 

The thoughts of every thing most dear. 

She wiped away the scalding tear. 

And, struggling with the choaking sigh, 

Lamented thus her misery. 

5. 

" Well may these tears of anguish flow 
From thee, my only home, to go : 

It is to sever 
My very heart-strings : thou hast been 
The dearly, deeply cherished scene 



THE widow's lament. 31 

Of all that grows into the heart — 
Those charities which form a part 
Of the souPs self — which Time in vain 
Strikes with his chilly fingers — they remain 
For ever ! 

'' Thou wast the place where first I drew 
The breath of Heaven ; where first I knew 
The sound of my mother's voice, and breathed 

Her name — that long-ed-for sound which sank 
To her soul — while doating-ly she wreathed 

Her fondling- arms round me, and drank 
My earliest words, and pressM me 
To her heart, and bless'd me ! 

7. 

" Beneath thy forest's peaceful shade 
My childhood's earliest footsteps strayed, 
Its earliest pranks and frolics played. 
Its earliest pleasures knew — 



32 THE widow's LAMKNT. 

Since then full three score years have past- 
And could I think that now, at last, 
1 should on the wide world be cast — 
Be torn, dear home, from yon? 



8. 

" Thou wast the scene which saw me g-ive 

My faith to him who is no more— 
But who has never ceased to live 

In my heart's core. 
In thee, too, I in my turn felt 
Those joys which cause the heart to melt — 
More pure, more perfect than all other^^ 
The hallowed feeling^s of a mother ! 
Yon mosque, whose simple spire now gleams 
Beneath the sun's receding* beams, 
Has daily thrice beheld me there, 
Since first these lips could lisp a prayer ; (2) 
And there, I trusted, when I died, 
To have been laid by Hassan's side. 



THE widow's lament. 33 



9. 



^' And must I then the hope resign, 
Dearest, to mix my dust with thine? — 
Must I then leave the sainted shade, 
Where thou, and all my sires are laid? (3) 
Oh ! Sultan, Sultan, dost thou think 

That lowly hearts can't feel distress — • 
Deem'st thou that we unmov'd can drink 

So deep a draug-ht of bitterness ? 
A heart like thine could never know. 
Like us, this helpless hopeless woe ; 
Or feel how dear the ties which bind us 
To all we for ever leave behind us ! 

10. 

Thou gav'st the fell command, which laid 
Fair places waste, and dwellings low ; 

One ruthless word of thine hath made 
Tears from a thousand eyes to flow ! 

Like the Simoom's unsparing breath. 

Thou spread'st destruction, waste, and death ! 



34 THE WIDOW'S LAMENT, 

Where smiling dwelling's late have been, 
Will appear one savage hunting scene ; 
What is to-day the abode of men. 
To-morrow will be the tiger's den ! 
This night full many a head will lie 
On the cold earth, beneath the sky ; 
And yet we envy not thy bed — 
The Widow's curse is on thy head ! 
Oh ! Sultan, in thy boundless power. 

Little thou deem'st of one like me; 
Yet, when we meet at the judgment hour. 

For worlds I would not change with thee ! 

11. 

** The sun is set — the shadows fall 
Around my dwelling — and on all 
Which I have loved — and these old eyes 
Will never again see the sun arise 
On that horizon. Fare thee well. 
My early home I Tm now to dwell 
In stranger lands. My straining sight 
Strives with the thickening gloom of night ; 



THE widow's lament. 35 

And even now I scarce can se^ 

Thy humble thatch — but never, never 

Will my heart cease to doat on thee — 
Farewell, my home, farewell for ever!" 



m 



THK widow's LAMKNT. 



NOTE S. 



(1) *^ At this fair hour a sorrowing band 



Began their weary way. 



>» 



In the East, the heats of the day are so intense, that 
journeys are usually begun at sun-set, and continued through 
the night. 

(2) *' Has daily thrice beheld me there. 

Since first these lips could lisp a prayer." 

The rigid Mussulmans attend the mosque for prayers 
three times a-day — at day-break, at noon, and at siin-set. 



(3) " Must I then leave the sainted shade. 

Where thou and all my sires are laid?" 

It is well known, that to most nations of the East, and 
indeed to almost every people imperfectly civilized, to be 
driven from the tombs of their fathers, is the severest blow 
which can be dealt to them. 



THE QUEEN OF MAY. 



THE QUEEN OF MAY* 



" EUe etoit de ce monde ou les plus belles choses 

" Ont le pire destin — 

" Et, rose, elle a vecu ce que vivent les roses, 

" L'espace d'un matin." 

MALHERBE. 



The day has dawned on a morning- of spring*. 
When all the earth seems blossoming : 
The sun is not up, but his forerunning* ray 
Has arisen, to lig*ht the First of May. 

There's scarcely a cloud in the sky so blue. 
And the air is fresh, but is balmy too — 
For at this sweet season, the advancing sun 
Almost joins Summer and Spring* in one. 



* The idea of these stanzas is taken from an article in 
the Sketch Book, entitled, '^ The Pride of the Village." 

D 



40 THE QUEEN OF MAY. 

That breeze has added a brighter streak 

Of red to many a youthful cheek — 

Young* blood flows faster — young* hearts are more 

light, 

When they meet on a morning-, so bonny and brig-ht. 

And each maiden's bosom a posy shows 
Of the violet sweet, and the pale primrose — 
And each youth has a bunch of the earliest thorn, 
Which seems to have bloomM for its own May- 
morn. 



And among them in rural state they bring 
A wreath of the fairest flowers of Spring; 
^Tis the festival's garland — the crown of the day 
For Ellen, their chosen Queen of May. 



Ellen, the praise of the country-side — 
The beloved of all — the hamlet's pride — 
More lovely, more blooming, more bright, more fair' 
Than all the May-flowers which blossomed there. 



THE QUEEN OF MAY. 41 

She had that full and dewy blue eye 
Which, when at rest, beams meltingly ; 
But, by feeling- roused, sends a living- flash 
Of fire thro' the fring-e of its lengthened lash. 

She had not the villager's ruddy hue— 
Her cheek was clearer, and paler too ; 
But, how lovely its red, when the soul within, 
With a delicate flush carnationed the skin. 



Her step was elastic- — her stature tall — 
Her figure was light, but round withal, 
And she had that grace of motion, which will 
Make even beauty more beautiful still. 



They placed the wreath on her bright brown hair , 
She was Lady of May^ — she was Queen of the Fair ! 
And, surrounded by beauty, and youth, there 

was none 
Could at all compare with that loveliest one. 

d2 



42 THE QUEEN OF MAY. 

All eyes followed her form in the dance ; 
But there was one whose unholy glance 
Gleamed with the dark infernal fire 
Of lawless passion — of evil desire. 



And was there a mind could think amiss 
Towards a creature so lovely — so pure as this? 
Could this scene of innocence harbour vice? 
Yes ! — Satan could enter Paradise. 



And her innocent ear for the first time heard 
The insidious sound of the honey'd word. 
Which startles not — but by seeming pure. 
Makes its deadly venom hidden and sure. 

Oh ! when the glance of a high-born eye 
Beams on the lowly, wooingly — 
When a lordly tongue breathes a supplicant word. 
Unmoved can that look be seen — that accent be 
heard? 



» 



THE QUEEN OF MAY. 43 

Ellen went to her home that nig^ht, 
With a spirit more proud, but a heart less light ; 
And the varying- thoug-hts of an unquiet breast 
For the first time troubled her innocent rest. 



Why should I dwell on a tale oft told? 
The story is simple — and trite — and old ; 
But the victim feels not one pang the less, 
That many have known the same distress. 



Poor Ellen trusted the sounds which hung 
In deceitful words, on a glozing tongue ; 
And the look of love, which some so well 
Can make almost irresistible. 



Oh ! fly at the first, for when once such art 
Has won its way to the trusting heart, 
Though Virtue be then cast aside, the ear 
Cannot turn from the words of lips so dear. 



44 THE QUEEN OF MAY. 

Her vision of happiness swiftly flew, 

Short — oh, how short 1 — was the joy she knew— 

Her lover left her ; and from that day 

Poor Ellen wasted, and pined away. 

The freezing- tear would steal from her eye, 

Till she g-rew too weak even to cry : 

And for hours she would gaze, till her sight grew 

dim, 
On a braid of hair which was given by him. 

Who now would have known the bright Queen 

of May ? 
Her glance of light had faded away ; 
And that eye, which spoke to the hearts of all. 
Was glassy, and sunken, and hollow and small. 

Her rounded arm shrank to a bagging skin. 
You could almost see through — 'twas so white — 

so thin ; 
And that foot which was wont so lightly to bound, 
Now slowly and^ flatly trailed on the ground. 



THE QUEEN OF MAY. 45 

Her face assumed that appalling- air. 
Which it has when Death is written there ; 
And her form became so wasted and thin. 
You scarce could believe it had life within. 



Her wound was cureless — Oh ! those which bleed 
From a hand we love, are deadly indeed — 
She rejoiced to die—she welcomed the tomb — 
To her it had no shadow of gloom. 

She wasted and wasted : day by day, 
The lingering's of life slowly ebbed away. 
Till, at leng-th, she exhaled her last feeble breath. 
And her wounded spirit reposed in death. 



^Twas a chill, and damp, and misty day. 
When the sky is obscured by a dirty grey, 
And when if the sun gleams strug'gling'ly out, 
The scene is even more sad than without. 



46 THE QUEEN OF MAY. 

And the drizzling rain, and the wintry blast. 
Strike on the leaf as it withers fast — 
Dank yellow checquered with foul black spots, 
Is its festering hue as it sickens and rots. 

And wailing Autumn's dark days were gone. 
And the darker of Winter were hastening on ; 
And the gloom of the season was gloomier yet, 
From the gusty wind, and the daggling wet. 



The funeral of Ellen passed slowly by — 
The footsteps themselves sounded mournfully: 
The young girls who strewed white flowers on 

the way. 
Were the same who had crowned her the Queen 

of May. 

Is this the fair creature on whom the eye 
Was wont to dwell so delightedly? 
Is the lovely and young become a thing 
From which Nature shrinks with shuddering ? 



THE QUEEN OF MAY, 47 



:i 



Oh ! Beauty, what art thou — that thus we see 
All trace of thee vanish so suddenly? 
That thus the soul sickens to look upon, 
Even of the lovely, this loveliest one. 



They went thro' the g-arden, where the flowers 

which grew 
Under her care, had withered too ; 
They passed by the May-pole, and over the green 
Which had witnessed her mimic reign as Queen. 

They passed the place where she first gave ear 
To the fatal tale of a tongue too dear — 
And the very spot where the first young kiss 
Had awakened the soul itself to bliss 

A sorrowing tear sprung to every eye. 

As they saw the mourning troop go by — 

A pitying word fell from every tongue. 

For the death of the lovely — the loved — the young. 



48 THE QUEEN OF MAY. 

They came to the church-yard — the slow, deep 

toll. 
Heavily swung* to the shrinking* soul ; 
The fat black earth lay heaped in a mound. 
And skulls and bones were strewed around. 

The touching" and beautiful prayer was said. 
With which the living lament the dead — 
The corpse was laid to its fellow clay. 
And the earth closed over the Queen of May! 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



I 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



STANZAS. 
1. 

Oh ! that this life of woe were past. 

And I were in my grave at last ! 

That this seared heart, and throbbing' head. 

Reposed in their sepulchral bed ! 

There would my sins and sorrows cease, 

I there should be, at last, in peace. 

2. 

There I no more should feel the force 

Of love — sin — sorrow — guilt — remorse. 

My wearied spirit there would rest. 

For there the thought would leave my breast, 

Of all the passions wild which moved me, 

or lier 1 loved — of her who loved me. 



52 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



3. 

Yes ! were I dead, it would not be 

A sin for her to think on me — 

She then might shed a guiltless tear 

For him who, living, held her dear. 

And pray the guilt might be forgiven. 

Of all his wrongs towards her, and Heaven ! 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 53 



FORGET ME NOT. 



L 

Forget me not ! though now we part- 
And part, alas ! to meet uo more ; 

Remember that there beats a heart 
Which loves thee to its inmost core. 

2. 

We part — and had we never met, 
Happy had it been for thee : 

My love has been thy bane — but yet. 
Oh ! cease not to remember me ! 

3. 

My passion served but to increase 
The sorrows of a suffering lot. 

To mar still more thy bosom's peace: 
But still, oh! still — forget me not! 



04 imSCELl.ANROUS POKMS. 



SONG. 



*Tis that dear, dear song* 
Pve loved so long-, 

Which you used to sing- for me, love — 
My heart is wrung 
To hear it sung* 

By any one but thee, love. 

My souFs self drank 
The sounds which sank 

From your lips in tones so sweet, love — 
And that eye of light 
Grew still more bright, 

As the lay caused our looks to meet, love. 

Those eyes are shut — 
Those lips are mute — 



jWiscellaneous poems. 5S 

That voice for ever is floWn, love — 
Oh, never again 
Let me hear the strain 

Which I used to call your own, love ! 



E 



56 MISCELLANEOUS POEMJ^. 



CHRISTMAS. 



Christmas returns — but with it comes no more 
The light and joyous spirit, which of yore 
Was wont to make this old halPs echoes ring- 
With song, and dance, and mirth, and wassailing ! 
The frolic revel — chastened by high sense — 
The sparkling wit — the social eloquence ; 
The charm of that exalted mirth we see. 
When Genius gives its aid to Gaiety — 
All these are gone ! and this beloved scene 
Now only serves to tell of what has been. 
Oh ! what a mournful pleasure haunts the sight 
Of scenes of former joy — of past delight ; 
'Tis as the corse of one but newly dead — 
The form's unaltered, but the soul is fled ! 



I 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 57 

And His so here; — the leaves which decked the 

tree 
In all its summer pride, have ceased to be ; 
By Winter's withering hand of all bereft, 
Noug-ht but the cold bare leafless trunk is left ! 



Christmas Eve^ 1820. 



e2 



58 ^MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



ON 



MR. CRABBERS ^^ EDWARD SHORE.' 



^Tis ever thus — we always find 

Strong passion with the strongest mind. 

With Genius, ^' fire from Heaven/^ — in turn 

The fires from hell of Passion burn — 

Passion still wins the steps astray. 

Though splendid Reason point the way. 

Alas ! what noble minds we see 

Doomed to this doubtful destiny ! 

Their pure aspirings bid them rise 

On Virtue's pinions to the skies ; 

But Passion's fierce and withering force 

Opposes the celestial course, 

And scathes with its unhallowed fire 

The buddings of more pure desire. 



I 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 59 

'Tis ever thus — their wavering- doom 
Is like the Eastern Prophet's tomb — 
To neither part is wholly given. 
But vibrates betwixt Earth and Heaven ! 



60 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 



Nay, ask me not to strike my lyre — 

Its sounds are g'one for ever by ; 
Never again shall I feel the fire. 

The mantling- glow of poesy ! 

I cannot raise the notes of pleasure ; 

That string wrould need a livelier touch— 
I dare not sound a sadder measure ; 

My heart accords with that too much. 

For the happy love excited feeling — 
The tear which fabled grief can bring ; 

But the breast whose ill can know no healing. 
Shrinks from all name of suifering ! 

Then ask me not — for even thou 
Must, in this instance, ask in vain : 

My harp is tuneless — voiceless now — 
Is mute^ to never speak again. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 61 



•' The magic of a name." 

CAMPBELL. 



Beats there the heart which does not bound. 
With a trembling- thrill, at the holy sound 
Of a name belov'd — which does not swell 
As it drinks a note which it loves so well ? 



Thoug-h years may have past since we last have 

heard 
From strang-er lips the well-known word. 
Yet, pronounced by chance, it awakens the ear, 
And the soul delightedly turns to hear. 

That word is breathed in a softer tone. 

And possesses a music not it^s own ; 

And the letters which speak that name to the eye. 

Appear to combine more gracefully ! 



62 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 

When we utter their name, the absent are near; 
The beloved themselves become more dear ; 
And the dead, at that heart-dwelling' sound, 

will be 
In more vivid and instant memory. 

Oh ! a name beloved becomes a part 
Of the dearest feelings of every heart ; 
And until the heart itself shall decay. 
That feeling will never pass away ! 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 63 



WRITTEN IN A BOOK, GIVEN ME AT FOUR YEARS 

OLD. 



Yes ! dearest book, thy simple page 
Recalls my childhood's happy hours ; 

That innocent and peaceful age. 

Ere passion yet hath shewn its powers. 

How deeply do I wish that aught 
Could give those blessed times agajji ; 

Or that I could shake off the thought 
Of what is now, and what was then ! 



64 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS* 



A FAREWELL. 



1. 

Yes, I must fly from thee ! while I 

Retain the will, the power to fly ; 

Ere yet the spell thy charms cast round me, 

In bands unbreakable have bound me ; — 

Ere yet the nascent flame acquire 

The deepened ting-e of quenchless fire ! 

2. 

Yes, I must fly thee — while my heart 

Can bear the bitter pang- to part — 

While yet my yielding- soul can 'waken 

The slumbering streng-th thy charms have shaken ; 

And, oh ! still more than all — ere yet 

Remorse be added to regret ! 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 65 

3. 

Farewell ! and when you chance to hear 

The name of him who held thee dear. 

Let Pity raise a passing* sig-h, 

A tender thought on days gone by — 

On him who felt, yet fled, the power 

Which Love casts round thy ^witching bower — 

Who breathes, in spite of passion's swell. 

His long — perhaps his last — farewell ! 



66 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



SONG. 



Those days are o'er, 

We now no more 
May feel as we once did feel, Fanny ; 

And the fond regret 

Which lingers yet, 
Our lips must never reveal, Fanny. 

Tho' I love thee still— 

^Twere a deed of ill 
To talk to thee of love, Fanny ; 

For though here 'twere known 

But to us alone, 
It could not be concealed above, Fanny. 

Then in His dread sight 
Let our lips unite, 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. &7 

And mingle one last^ last sigh, Fanny ; 

And then we must sever 

For ever, for ever, 
Till we meet again on high, Fanny ! 



68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 



ON THE 

GIPSY'S PROPHECY IN GUY MANNERING. 



" Twist ye, twine ye"- 



Twist ye, twine ye black and grey — 
Mix no brighter hues ; for they 
Should not be there — no merry white 
Should mingle in so dark a night. 

Twine the black, for that's the colour 
Tokens well his future dolour — 
Nor his alone — for well we know 
That all who live were bofn for woe. 

Twine the grey — for now and then 
Checquered fates arise to men ; 
But where is he who'll dare to say 
His is of brighter tint than grey? 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 69 

But twine no white — that happy hue 
j Man born of woman never knew; 
Life never had a tint so fair. 
To dash the shades which darkle there 



70 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



Nay, trust not to the hollow smile, 

Which sometimes you observe me wear ;■ 

You do not see my heart the while. 
And all the pang-s which batten there ! 

The bright and lively flowers which lie 
Strewed on a gravestone, do not shew 

Aught which can token to the eye 
The foul and festering corpse below. 

Oh ! may such smiles as those you see 
Wither my lip, ne'er pass to thine ;— 

Your bitterest tears can never be 
So painful as that smile of mine. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 71 



Nay, weep not, my love, all sorrow is past — 
All doubt is over — thou art mine at last: 
Let me not see your spirit oppressed with sadness. 
While Rapture almost raises mine to madness. 

While my heart sends the impetuous blood 
Gushingly forth in a boiling flood. 
Which throbs within every bursjting' vein. 
Till pleasure almost arises to pain, — 

Let me not find ^ot^r pulse beat so faintingly low. 
And each nerve in your body tremble so ;— 
Oh, surely, dearest, a moment like this 
Should accord both body and soul to bliss ! 

Then weep not?— or weep the passionate tear 
Which speaks of jay and ecstacy near ;— 
And sigh not, unless your lips respire 
The breath of Rapture's sighs of fire, 

F 



72 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



TQ ********* 



Yes ! lady, had we earlier met, 
I might — I must have loved thee then, — 

But now my bosom will not let 
Its wasted feelings love again. 

My heart hath known the fiery force 
Of Passion's wild and fearful hour — 

In turn, sin — sorrow — ^guilt — remorse. 

Have cursed it with their withering power. 



Withering indeed ! — ^^or could I gaze 
Unmoved upon thy full blue eye, — 

And listen to the ^witching lays. 

Thy lips breathe forth so touchingly ? 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 73 

Oh ! no — but long- before we met. 

Passion had stamped my future fate ; — 

I now can only feel regret 

That we should meet, alas ! too late. 



W2 



74 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF OF LALLA ROOKH. 



1. 

Dearest, I doubly taste with thee 
The charms of this sweet minstrelsy ! — 
O'er these wild numbers I have felt 
My very soul within me melt. 
To sit by thy side and hang with thee 

On the beauties of each entrancing line ; 
Then gaze on thy speaking eye, and see 

How thy thoughts and thy feelings mingle with 
mine. 
Oh ! I have seen that full eye flash 
Beneath its long and silken lash. 
Its living glance at once revealing 
Each secret thought — each inmost feeling. 



1 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 75 

2. 

And^ oh ! when the bard has chanced to strike 
That chord which is felt by both alike ; — 
When we have come to those moving" parts 
Which strike so home to both our hearts ; — 
Those lays — alas! too real — which weep 

The misery of a lot like ours — 
We have known a feeling* far too deep. 

To be raised alone by Poetry's powers: 
They serve but to g*oad within our breast, 
Thoughts which can never wholly rest ; 
We feel — but what I need not tell— 
Alas 1 you only know too well ! 



76 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



TO AN INFANT. 



1. 

Sweet Infant, smile again — although 
I may not claim that look of thine — 
My soul, alas ! can never know, 

The touching joy to call thee mine. 
Yet when Fve seen that sinless smile, 
I've felt my heart grow light the while; 
The evil passions of my breast 
Have then been almost charmed to rest. 

2. 

Oh ! may the beams of that full blue eye. 
Which now repose so placidly. 
Never flash forth the unhallowed fire 
Of wrath — of hatred — envy — ire ; 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 77 

And may that calm^ unsullied brow. 
So clear^ so pure, so stainless now. 
Be always thus — nor ever bear 
One trace of sorrow furrowed there ! 

3. 

Oh ! how I covet that soft thrill 
Of hallowed pleasure, which will fill 
Thy mother's soul, when she shall trace 
Nascent expression in thy face — 
When first thy kindling eye shall show. 
Thy little heart hath learned to know 
I Thy mother ; and thy smile revealing* 
The earliest touch of tender feeling*, 
Shall add the power of dawning* sense 
To the charm of infant innocence ! 
And, more than all, when thy tongue shall try 
To lisp its first words falteringly; 
And syllable the sound most dear. 
Most hallowed to a mother's ear — 
Sweeter to her than the dying notes 
Of music, which over the water floats, 



* 

i » 



78 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. <>:» 



Or the heavenly strain when the winds give tone 
To the harp that speaks but by them alone — 
Is there on earth an equal bliss? — 
No! there's none so perfect — so pure as this! 



4. 

Yes ! dearest Infant;, smile ag-ain. 

And stretch thy little arms towards me ; — 
And fondly look on me, for then 
I almost dream that thou must be 
His, who thus loves thee doatingly ! — 
Whose very heart of hearts caresses theer— 
Whose soul's most fervent feeling blesses thee — 
Who'd give that soul itself, if aught 

Could make thee really his— but, no— 
I must controul that maddening thought- 
Alas! it never can be so! 



THE END. 



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